


A Good Start

by Michelle Christian (movies_michelle)



Category: Justified (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:45:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/movies_michelle/pseuds/Michelle%20Christian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raylan Givens and David Vasquez didn't start off on the right foot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Start

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nestra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nestra/gifts).



Raylan Givens had been a Deputy US Marshal for a lot of years. He'd been shot at, shot, and shot others so many times--well, he couldn't claim he'd lost count, but it was close. He never enjoyed any of those activities, but he was man enough to admit that the thing he hated most about his job was the requisition paperwork.

"Raylan," Art called from his office door, "if we could have a moment of your time."

 _We_ was Art and David Vasquez, whom Raylan could see sitting in front of Art's desk.

Suddenly, the paperwork seemed much more attractive.

Raylan walked slowly toward the office, trying not to hear portentous music in his head as he made his way there.

“Marshal,” Vasquez said with a nod of his head, and immediately handed Raylan a pen.

“Is this my retirement present?”

“Me first,” Art forestalled, and pushed the form in front of him. “This is your official release from investigation by the U.S. Attorney’s office. Now, before you get excited like a schoolgirl going to prom,” Art urged him with a wave of his hand, “please keep in mind that they’ll be keeping an eye on you in the future.”

“But I’ve been cleared, right?” Raylan asked carefully, trying to read through the papers quickly while still watching the AUSA.

“Yes. You were shown to be justified, as you said, in _all_ ,” Vasquez stressed the word dryly, “of your shootings. Though as much as I love a good shoot-em-up, I’d recommend that you keep the violence to a minimum.”

“The general public does get a bit tetchy about that sort of thing,” Art agreed.

Raylan thought about arguing that anything he did was necessary, but decided to learn from his mistakes and take the discreet road. He signed the paper where indicated and a weight lifted from him.

“And you are now officially no longer my problem,” Vasquez said, gathering up the papers back into his briefcase.

Raylan felt a bit dazed as he walked back to his desk. This all seemed too easy, after all those months dealing with Ava and Boyd and Winona and Arlo and Tommy Bucks. Raylan was the first to admit his life was complex. Some of it might have been his own making, but even so, he'd spent a lot of time trying to untangle everything, make it right somehow. Trying to do that while knowing the AUSA was looking over his shoulder didn't make things any easier, not that Raylan would have handled things differently otherwise.

The problem was that he actually liked Vasquez. He was smart and funny and a straight-shooter. He was also the kind of guy Raylan went for when he was looking for male companionship. He was attractive in that way that competent people comfortable in their own skin always were to Raylan, and Raylan thought he caught a faint zing of returned interest.

Now, Ava was gone to Tennessee to try and get on with her life; Boyd was missing; Geo probably wasn't going away, but Raylan thought the man was practical enough not to waste men and resources on trying to track Raylan down again when they all kept ending up dead; Winona was trying to make things work out with Gary, and Raylan thought he might, finally, be ready to let her go; and Arlo―Raylan frankly didn't give a shit what Arlo did anymore, as long as he stayed in Harlan, and Raylan stayed anywhere-but-Harlan.

And now, rather than thinking about his current case or going out to a bar with Art to celebrate his release from scrutiny, he found himself thinking about his very male AUSA who'd been scrutinizing him all this time.

Raylan was willing to admit he might like his life complex.

Vasquez was already out of the office and by the time Raylan caught up to him. He wasn't sure what he thought he was doing, but hell, that had never stopped him before.

"Now that you’re officially rid of me,” Raylan said, walking up behind Vasquez at the elevator, “How about I buy you a bourbon?”

Vasquez smiled back at him. “Not the usual reaction from guys I investigate,” he admitted.

Raylan shrugged, and stood with his body as relaxed and open as he could make it. “Seems like we got off on the wrong foot. Least I can do is get us back on the right one."

"The right one includes bourbon?" Vasquez asked, smile growing.

"The right one always includes bourbon." Raylan smiled back. "Most of the wrong ones, too."

*

David Vasquez would have to be blind or insane to miss that Raylan Givens was an attractive man, and he was neither. Raylan moved with the kind of ease that came from someone knowing just how good he was,, a sway just short of a swagger. Confidence was sexy, when it had something to back it up.

Honestly, though, he couldn't figure out what was going on here. Maybe Raylan was interested, maybe he wasn't. David wasn't sure if the sexy man with the hip-shot stance was worth the baggage he came with or the crap they'd both have to deal with if anyone ever found out, even if there was interest. He was willing to play this by ear, though.

The bar they ended up at was one a friend had recommended to Raylan once, the Marshal had said. It was far enough away from the federal building they were unlikely to run into anyone they worked with, while just close enough to the college campuses to be more relaxed.

"So, how--" David started to ask, but stopped when Raylan held up one hand.

"Now, I think you know more about me than any one person should at this point. I think it might be my turn to ask some questions," he said, sounding friendly enough.

David smiled and nodded at him to go ahead.

"How long've you been in Kentucky?" Raylan asked him.

"About two years," David told him, sipping at the Maker's set down in front of him. "I got transferred in from Newark."

"And let me guess," Raylan said, wry tone of voice indicating he'd had similar conversations before, "you just want to go back, hate it here, and can't wait to get away from all us hillbillies and hicks."

David snorted. "Not that you would project your own feelings in any way. First off, if you think I want to go back, I think you've never been to Newark. Secondly, I never said I hated it here."

"You like it here," Raylan said incredulously.

"Sure," David said, shrugging. "It's a nice area, I like the seasons, most of the people are friendly when they're not assholes, but that's true anywhere. It's not the most cosmopolitan place I can think of, but it's...quiet."

Raylan smiled and David thought, _Fucker has to be so damned sexy?_

"You like quiet?" Raylan asked softly.

"I like not being shot at."

Raylan sat for a moment quietly, downing the last of the drink in his glass before sitting it down and leaning forward. "I've got to be honest, I'm terrible at this, always have been, so I'm just going to say it straight out, since even if you're not interested, you don't strike me as an asshole who would drop me in the shit for just asking: I think you're a good looking man, and I like you, and I'd like to take you back to my hotel room, if you wouldn't mind."

It was all said so clearly and without guile, it surprised a laugh out of David before he could keep it in. "You don't mince words, do you?" David asked, amused.

"Don't see the point," Raylan conceded.

"No offense, Raylan," Vasquez said, preparing to walk away, "but I'm a Spic queer working for the Federal government out of the middle of Kentucky, which means I pretty much have a target on my back visible from all directions as it is. And you haven't exactly proven yourself to be the soul of good judgment or discretion. If I need to get laid that bad, I'll take a long drive or a short flight to somewhere less bourbon-soaked and pick up a one night stand. For now, I'm just fine on my own."

"Sounds kinda lonely," Raylan said quietly.

"Yeah, but it's also easier."

"Easier's rarely the right choice." Raylan was leaning forward again.

"There's enough that's difficult without bringing in anything extra."

"Way I figure it," Raylan said, slowly sitting back, "is it ain't worth your time worrying about what other people will think. They'll think the worst of you, given the chance, anyway. They might as well think something true."

David sat looking at his empty glass and wondered if it was just in his mind that Raylan seemed to be hinting at more than just a one-time tumble.

"What if I said I liked my job more?" he asked looking up into that unblinking stare. "What if I said I didn't think a roll in the hay was worth dealing with all the bullshit I'd have to deal with if anyone suddenly suspected I was a fag? What if I said you were a terrible idea, specifically?"

"I'd say that's your choice," Raylan returned evenly, not looking away. "I'd say I was asking you to bed, not to the prom. I don't believe in hiding who I am, but I'm not likely to march in the Pride parade next month." Raylan stood up, throwing cash on the table to cover the drinks before leaning over enough that David felt his breath brush his own face. "I'd say you're a grown man who can make up his own mind, but I'd like to get to know you, in the sheets and out of them. You know where I am."

And with that, he walked out.

*

David argued with himself the entire drive out to the motel Raylan stayed at on the southern outskirts of town.

He argued with himself as he got out of the car and knocked on the door.

He told himself to shut up when Raylan answered the door shirtless ( _Jesus fuck, that runner's girdle was going to kill him._ ) and stepped aside to let him in.

"You've got quite the charming shit hole here, Marshal," Vasquez said, looking around.

“We’re both off the clock, can we stop with the ‘ Marshal’ bit?” Raylan asked, closing the door behind them.

“Okay,” David conceded, turning around to face him. “Nice shit hole, Raylan.”

Raylan grinned and leaned against the table. ( _Those fucking hips need my hands on them now._ ) "Thanks, I do what I can."

Honestly, David had seen worse, but it was truly a horrendous combination of "down-home" style and shitbag motel room.

“Ever thought of something radical like getting an apartment?” David asked. “You’ve been here, what, six months?”

“I guess I was holding out hope I wouldn’t be here for long,” Raylan said sheepishly.

David took the offered glass. “And now?” he asked, not looking at him.

“I’m thinking on it,” Raylan said slowly, and took a step towards him.

"For the record," David said again while he could, before he reached out and stripped those jeans off him, "this is a colossally bad idea."

"So noted, counselor," Raylan returned, leaning down to brush his lips against David's.

"I can't stay the night," David said between kisses, his hands already moving down the slick back to that small, perfect ass.

"One thing at a time," Raylan said, before they tumbled down onto the bed.

*

Later, much later when David was looking at the full moon through the curtains, he found he couldn't think of any reason why this was the worst idea. The feeling of impending doom receded as Raylan continued to stroke his hand down his skin.

He turned to face Raylan, noting the smile on his face along with the look of intense concentration, as if he was attempting to memorize the evidence of David in his bed.

"Why do you hate Kentucky?" he found himself asking, almost whispering in the dark.

"I never said I hated it," Raylan said quietly, fingers skimming along the skin at David's side.

David gave him a look. "You're right, you just said you want to be anywhere, but here. My mistake."

Raylan sighed. "You're going to tell me you like it?"

"I already told you I don't hate it. I asked what _you_ don't like."

Raylan turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. David stayed up on his elbow, looking down at him. He'd been doing his job a long time, and he knew when not to let someone off the hook.

"You ever been in a coal mine?" Raylan asked.

"Can't say I have." David felt the urge to lean over and run his lips down the hair trailing from Raylan's chest to where it disappeared under the sheets, but he wanted to hear Raylan's answer first.

"Those old tunnels go on for miles," Raylan said quietly, lost in thought. "They open up into these caverns sometimes, and you can find dozens of men working in them, but most of the time it's all low ceilings and narrow ways you can barely turn around in. No matter how long or wide or tall the tunnel, it always feels...small." Raylan looked over at David at that point. "That's what Kentucky feels like to me."

"And you're built for bigger things?"

Raylan shrugged. "I want to see more than black walls and breathe more than coal dust all my life."

"So what does that mean for this?" David asked cautiously. He wasn't looking for a ring, just wanted to know where he stood.

Raylan reached up to his hair and touched him with a small smile. "I was told recently I need to dream more."

Suddenly David was on his back and Raylan was on top of him. _No objection._

"This seemed like a good start," Raylan finished, leaning down for another kiss.

 _fin_


End file.
